Acceptable Service: Tipping The Ruthless Billionaire

anxiety in her chest that was tighter than the one in her stomach. She stared out the window as the familiar br

utching her shoes. She just wanted a shower. She wanted to scrub

nto the front door l

pulled it out and tried again

ng for

blocking the entrance with her body. Her

ing," Colette said

, Miss Barrett. Mrs

smelled of lilies and old money-a smell that use

let

rom the top of the stair

up. Her blood

, her arm draped possessivel

h

ond before he masked it with a practiced look of indifference. Tiffany was wearing a silk slip

g the stairs slowly, like a queen greeting a peasant. "Dad

r. Her eyes were locked on Ch

oiding her gaze. "We brok

spered. "Because I was working tw

looking at her. His eyes were cold. "Tiffany und

e," Tiffany giggled,

oug

than Colette's annual salary as an art restorer. She held a porcelain cup of coffee, looking

uests," Meredith said smoothly. "Although,

nearly blinded her. She took a step towa

the shadows of the hallway-private security

ryway table. It slid across the polished w

ee. "Sign this. Renounce your claim to your father's est

t the folder. "T

called. Your father's account is overdrawn. They're

Colette screamed,

Meredith snapped, her mask slipping. "Sign t

ad's shoulder. "Just give it up, sis. Y

he three of them. A table

r. For a second, Mere

half. Then in quarters. She t

id, her voice shaking with adrenal

ed. "And don't come back

he door, down the steps, and into the

l. The screen flas

ndow. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were wild, and she looked